


That we two might be one

by swallowthewhale



Series: Killervibe Week [27]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowthewhale/pseuds/swallowthewhale
Summary: The monarch is the law and the oracle is the faith. For generations they have guided their people along the path set by fate through times of peace and times of war. But when the first queen of the land ascends to the throne, an old prophecy is fulfilled, throwing the young queen and her oracle’s lives into turmoil.Killervibe Week 2020: Arranged Marriage
Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Caitlin Snow
Series: Killervibe Week [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/752097
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Killervibedaily Events





	That we two might be one

Caitlin meets the oracle-in-training for the first time when she is fifteen years old and he is thirteen. Thirteen is a little old to be discovered as next in line as the oracle, as typically they are found by the time they’re ten, sometimes even younger. Caitlin vaguely remembers dark hair and brown eyes and a kind smile, but they hadn’t even been allowed to speak to each other, even though he will become Caitlin’s closest advisor when she ascends the throne at eighteen.

Caitlin speaks to the oracle-in-training for the first time the night before her coronation. He will be there next to her, accepting the title of oracle at the same time. He seems quiet at first, and they sit in silence for several minutes while Caitlin frantically tries to think of something to say. Eventually, she asks politely about the mechanical device she’d seen him carrying in the halls earlier and his eyes light up as he launches into an explanation of the device’s purpose. Caitlin, fascinated by a field of study neglected by her tutors, asks question after question, and they talk late into the night about mechanics, and science, and, eventually, of course, religion. Caitlin has never spoken so easily with anyone before, and suddenly all the misgivings she has about accepting the responsibilities of ruling fade with the prospect of having a kind, intelligent oracle at her side. She thinks it must be fate.

Caitlin finds out about the prophecy for the first time on her twentieth birthday.

“Prophecy?” Caitlin snaps at her mother. “What prophecy?”

“Your majesty,” the oracle says from beside her, so quietly that no one else can hear.

Caitlin doesn’t like being kept in the dark, as her mother liked to do to her all her childhood. As queen, it’s less often that her mother can surprise her like this.

Carla pats her mouth with a napkin and sets it aside calmly. “The prophecy states that the first queen will marry her oracle, or the country will fall into ruin.”

“And where did this prophecy come from?”

“The third book of Eirwen.”

Caitlin trembles with ire, her voice lowering dangerously. “There is no third book of Eirwen.”

Carla looks no less frightened of her furious daughter than of a snarling kitten. “It’s been kept a secret for a long time. When it became clear that _you_ were the first queen, we wanted to make sure you had a normal upbringing.”

“Who’s _we_? You and Harrison?” Caitlin asks derisively, referring to the previous oracle, who had served her father first, and then her mother after her father died when Caitlin was ten.

“No,” Carla says. “Your father and I.”

Caitlin reels back in shock, then stands abruptly, causing the rest of the table to hastily stand with her, and stalks out of the room. She makes it to the library before she bursts into tears, collapsing onto the sofa placed in her favorite corner of the room.

She’s not surprised when she looks up to see the oracle standing before her, hands clasped behind his back and face pinched in… something. Pain? Frustration? Caitlin can’t tell. She swipes at her damp cheeks and rearranges herself into a more ladylike pose on the sofa.

“You knew,” Caitlin accuses softly as he sits.

“It was part of my training,” he confirms just as quietly. He leans his elbows on his knees so Caitlin can’t quite see his face. “I didn’t know no one had told you.”

“Would you have?” Caitlin asks. “Told me?”

He looks over his shoulder at her. “Yes.”

Caitlin nods, sighing. “What does this mean?”

He rubs one thumb over the palm of his other hand, looking blindly across the room with furrowed brows.

“Cisco?”

He startles, turning to face her more fully.

Caitlin is one of a handful of people in the country, including the previous oracle and the family he left behind, who knows the oracle’s true name. He’d told her the night before her coronation, though officially she wasn’t supposed to have known until the coronation itself. She doesn’t use it frequently, though, just as Cisco rarely calls her by her given name, even though he’s one of only three people in the country who can do so.

Cisco is still frowning, staring over Caitlin’s shoulder out the window. She takes the opportunity to study his face more closely. He doesn’t seem angry, just concerned.

“Cisco,” she says again. “Tell me about the prophecy.”

He inhales sharply. “There isn’t much else to tell. It’s written rather plainly. The first queen must marry the oracle or the country will be doomed.”

Caitlin narrows her eyes at him. “Doomed with what? Hunger? War? Plague?”

Cisco shrugs helplessly. “It’s rather vague, I’m afraid. It took decades for scholars to even determine that it was a genuine writing of Eirwen.”

“Do you believe it’s true?” Caitlin asks.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, looking away.

They sit quietly for some time. Caitlin is desperate to ask the only question of which she’s scared of his answer. There is no question that Caitlin will marry. She has no heir to the throne, no siblings or cousins or distant relatives next in line. Perhaps _that_ is the doom the prophecy is meant to prevent; the death of a monarch without any heir would cause chaos and war. Cisco, though, has a choice. The oracle may marry whomever they choose, or not marry at all. What Caitlin truly wants to know is if Cisco wants to marry _her_.

“I must marry,” Caitlin says quietly. “And soon.” She looks down at her lap. “Everyone knows that I have no heir, and if I wait too long to marry, there will be those who seek to gain power here by any means. But I would rather not marry a stranger.”

“You’re queen,” Cisco says quietly. “You could have your choice of princes or lords. Goodness knows there have been handfuls of suitors here every week. There must be one that you could be happy with.”

Caitlin flushes. “I don’t know any of them. I don't _trust_ any of them. I trust you.”

Cisco finally looks at her.

“I would rather marry you,” she whispers. “But if you don’t- I’d never force you to, if that’s not what you want.”

Cisco’s eyes are shuttered. “You would be happy with me?”

Caitlin blinks, startled. “Of course.” Does he not know that he’s her only friend? That she’d been miserable and lonely before he came into her life?

He gently takes her hand in his and brushes a kiss across the back, then holds it between both of his own.

Caitlin’s breath catches in her chest.

“Caitlin,” Cisco asks quietly, “will you marry me?”

* * *

Carla, in Caitlin’s opinion, goes overboard with the wedding planning. She has dress sketches, and colored fabric swatches, and sample flower arrangements covering the formal dining hall table less than a day after Cisco and Caitlin tell her. She has the chef making ten different kinds of cake to try, and appointments with tailors, and worst of all, she has an artist come to paint Cisco and Caitlin’s engagement portrait. And then after hours of sitting for that, Carla tells them he’ll be back to paint their wedding portrait.

In hopes of avoiding her mother’s endless wedding questions, Caitlin takes to locking herself in her study with strict orders to her staff not to let her mother in. So while Caitlin’s secretaries and advisors filter in and out of her study and adjoining library, it’s Cisco who’s a constant with her, listening to reports, or reading while she does paperwork, or writing his own reports as Caitlin sighs through yet another long meeting about the poor harvest.

Cisco can often coax her out of the room to walk around the gardens, or to go riding with Iris and Barry, or to play chess with him.

“You can’t avoid your mother forever,” he chides fondly as they stroll along the path that leads to the woods after the fifth night of taking dinner in her rooms.

Caitlin sighs. “I’m glad she demanded we marry quickly, if only so all the planning is over sooner.”

Cisco grins at her. He may not say it aloud, but even he is irritated by Carla’s newfound obsession. “I suppose it’s too late to elope,” he teases.

Caitlin laughs. “Much too late! And I’m afraid it wouldn’t get us out of having to throw a party, anyway.”

He chuckles. “I suppose it would be wrong of me to say that fate demands a small, quiet wedding,” he says, a glint in his eye.

“No, I’m afraid the fates have made their opinion about royal weddings quite clear.”

An odd expression pulls at Cisco’s face and he looks away.

Caitlin slips her hand into the crook of his elbow, bringing them closer together.

He looks back at her, surprise at the contact fading into something warm and affectionate. Cisco can count on one hand the number of times he’s found himself so close to Caitlin. It’s not that they can’t touch, especially now that they’re engaged, though they’re so rarely alone and servants’ gossip makes its way around fast. It’s more that Caitlin holds herself so distant that Cisco has never let him be so free with her as he might want to be.

Caitlin smiles up at him. “You could try convincing my mother that you’ve foreseen us going on a honeymoon somewhere very far away and remote.”

“Or,” Cisco counters, putting his hand on top of hers, “you could just tell her that’s what we’re doing, since you’re in charge.”

Caitlin rolls her eyes. “My mother will always think she’s in charge of me no matter how long I’m queen. But tell me,” she asks slyly, peering up at him. “What _have_ you seen of our future?”

Cisco stops walking abruptly, Caitlin swinging around their interlocked arms on her next step to face him. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Caitlin tilts her head to consider him. “Yes,” she says finally.

Cisco’s face twists and he looks over her shoulder into the distance. “Mostly, I see in my dreams, but they’re like riddles that have to be solved to be understood. But sometimes, when I touch something, or someone, it’s clearer.”

Caitlin waits, expression unreadable.

His eyes meet hers. “The day you learned of the prophecy, I took your hand.”

Caitlin nods. “You saw something.” It’s not a question.

“The same thing I saw the last time I took your hand,” Cisco says, staring at her as if begging her to understand.

“At my coronation,” Caitlin says slowly.

“Yes.”

“It troubles you.”

“Yes.”

“Cisco,” Caitlin says, stepping closer. “Tell me.”

He bows his head, their foreheads almost touching. “I hurt you,” Cisco says, voice hushed and thick with pain. “I hurt you and I don’t know if we’ll recover.”

Caitlin’s not sure she understands, but Cisco doesn’t often speak plainly about the things he sees. Caitlin _is_ sure that whatever Cisco saw is haunting him. “I trust you,” Caitlin says, brushing her mittened hand across his cheek. “I trust you, and I trust that whatever happens in the future, that you don't do it out of malice.”

Cisco tips his head up and Caitlin finds herself sinking into that mysterious look in his eyes which makes her heart race and her knees weak. Their noses brush.

Caitlin’s eyes flutter shut as Cisco’s mouth closes over hers. Her free hand settles on his shoulder and when she sighs into the kiss, he deepens it.

The loud grinding of a nearby gate startles them apart, pink-cheeked and breathless and beaming. Cisco ducks down to press one more quick kiss to Caitlin’s mouth and then they continue on towards the wood, giddy and laughing, pressed close together like lovebirds.

The wedding day hurtles toward them at a speed both Caitlin and Cisco are unprepared for. Carla chose the winter solstice as their wedding day, only four weeks after their engagement. The engagement portrait is speedily painted and reproduced to send along with wedding invitations. Caitlin suffers being poked and prodded for a gown for several days and complains bitterly to Cisco, who is wearing the formal religious attire of the oracle and needs no new clothes, during late nights in the library. Caitlin lets her mother handle as many of the arrangements as possible, tired of picking out linens in twenty different shades of white and bickering with her mother over the best flowers to use.

It’s not until the night before the wedding that the sheer magnitude of everything hits her and she realizes, she’s getting _married_ in the morning. Feeling quite unsure and underprepared, Caitlin throws a warm dressing robe over the simple shift she’s wearing and walks down down the hall barefoot with an oil lamp to knock on the door to Cisco’s suite.

She’s startled when he opens the door himself instead of one of the servants.

“Caitlin?” He asks, squinting. “What’s wrong?”

Caitlin flushes, mortified, suddenly realizing both the hour and their states of undress. “I’m sorry, it’s silly. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She turns to leave.

“Wait,” he says, reaching out to catch her wrist. He looks both ways down the hall before pulling her into his sitting room. He cups both hands around her elbows. “What’s wrong?”

The light of the flame is reflected in his bottomless eyes. Caitlin finds herself at a loss for words.

Cisco guides her to a chair, kneeling as he takes the lamp to set it on a table. “Caitlin?”

She swallows hard. “We’re getting married tomorrow,” Caitlin whispers.

“Yes,” Cisco says, a faint smile on his face.

“I don’t know what comes after that,” Caitlin whispers. “We haven’t talked about it. About-” she stops short.

“About children?” Cisco finishes quietly. “Or what we want our marriage to be like?”

Caitlin nods.

Cisco sits back on his heels and turns his hands face up on her knees. She takes them. “We don’t have to worry about that right now,” Cisco says. “The whole world isn’t going to suddenly change tomorrow just because we’re married. We have time.”

Caitlin clutches his hands desperately. “But- what about- don’t we-” She blushes madly. “Aren’t we supposed to share a bed?” She mumbles, eyes fixed on their joined hands.

“Not if you don’t want to. Not right away,” Cisco says. “Hey.” He ducks his head to meet her eyes. “Caitlin.”

She looks up sheepishly.

“Whatever questions you have, ask them. I promise I’ll always answer honestly.”

“Even about,” she gestures with their clasped hands uselessly. “Child-making?” Caitlin knows the gist of it, of course, but knowing how it’s done and _doing_ it seem like wildly different things.

“Even that,” Cisco promises. He stands, tugging her with him. “C’mere.”

Caitlin lets him tuck her under his chin in a tight hug. Caitlin presses her nose into his neck, suddenly, overwhelmingly grateful that somehow fate had given her this generous, wonderful man. “I’m glad it’s you,” she whispers.

Cisco doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t let go for a long time, and Caitlin knows he feels the same.

* * *

The morning of their wedding dawns bright and frigid. Caitlin lets her mother and the many ladies-in-waiting fuss over her as she’s laced into her dress and done up with face paints and flowers. When they finally leave her alone, Caitlin can admit, staring into a precious full-length mirror, that they did a good job. She feels as ethereal and beautiful as a mythical snow nymph, in a long-sleeve, cream-white, lace dress, which exposes more collarbone and back than is traditional for winter. With the delicate snowdrops tucked into her hair and a pretty bouquet of hellebores, cyclamen, and crocuses in her hands, Caitlin is quietly pleased. Not that she’ll tell her mother that.

She’s left waiting in the sun room behind the great hall, staring out over the gardens where frost glitters like gems in the morning sun. The door opens and shuts quietly behind her, but she ignores it.

“Caitlin.”

Caitlin turns, startled to see Cisco. Her heart stutters at the sight of him, handsome in the rich blue and off-white colors of the oracle. His hair is down and tucked behind his ears and he’s staring at her, mouth parted and eyes dark.

“Wow,” he breathes, stepping closer. “You’re beautiful.”

Caitlin ducks her head, but she can see him move in front of her.

He brushes a stray curl off her face. “Cait, I-”

She looks up and meets his eyes. He’s so close she can feel his breath on her mouth. His fingers are still touching her cheek. His eyes drop down to her mouth and Caitlin stops breathing, something tingly and warm exploding in her chest and fizzing across her skin.

Cisco closes his eyes for a moment, then presses a kiss to her forehead. He takes a step back, his hand dropping away.

Caitlin is dizzy from the loss.

“I need to tell you something.”

She frowns. Cisco sounds unhappy. There’s misery written across his face and he won’t meet her gaze. Her stomach drops. “You’re not leav-”

“No!” Cisco jerks his eyes up to hers. “No,” he repeats more calmly. “It’s about the prophecy.”

Caitlin swallows. “There’s something you haven’t told me?”

Cisco nods, grimacing as he blurts out, “It’s not real. The prophecy, the writings of Eirwen, all of it.”

Caitlin pales. “What are you talking about? Of course it’s real. You’re the oracle!”

“I am,” Cisco whispers. “Which is why I know it’s all a lie.”

Caitlin wraps her arms around her waist. “You’re saying you don’t have visions? That you can’t see the path?”

Cisco bows his head. “I can. Maybe Eirwen really could. Maybe there are others who can, too, but most oracles can’t.”

Caitlin’s lip trembles. “But if you can see, then how could it be false?”

Cisco opens his hands to her, palms out. “Because I’ve seen it.”

“So all of this, it’s all a lie?” Years of lessons in decorum keep her back straight and her voice steady, but her head throbs and her lungs ache.

He looks helpless, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. “The prophecy is, but I-”

Caitlin takes severals steps backwards until her back hits the wall. “You should go,” she interrupts, voice flat, eyes unfocused. “The ceremony is starting soon and you can’t be seen in here.”

“Caitlin,” Cisco pleads.

Her eyes snap to him. “Go.”

In the great hall, Caitlin walks down the aisle alone towards the thrones where Cisco waits. Onlookers might say her bright eyes and cool expression are fit for a queen marrying her fated love. Cisco watches her walk towards him, just as beautiful as she was all aglow with the sun at her back earlier, but can only see the heartbreak.

They hold hands only once. Caitlin recites the vows first in a quiet voice that carries through the silent hall.

“You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give to you that which is mine to give. I cannot command you, for you are free. But I shall serve you in those ways which you require and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand. I pledge to you my living and my dying equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine. This is my vow to you.”

Then Cisco recites them, in a voice full of emotion. She looks up at him, wide-eyed, for the first time since she told him to go when he adds an extra line. “…Above and beyond this, I will love you through this life and into the next. This is my vow to you.”

Their eyes meet and Caitlin lets herself sink into his gaze, confused and hurt and unable to tear her eyes away.

Harrison begins to wrap blue and white ribbons around their joined hands and they recite the handfasting. Caitlin’s voice trembles.

“We swear by peace and love to stand, heart to heart and hand to hand. Mark, and hear us now, confirming this our sacred vow.”

Cisco lifts her hand to press a kiss to the back of her fingers, then leads her back down the aisle, hand in hand, with the ribbon still around their wrists, binding them for life.

Cisco guides them back to the sun room, now flooded with bright winter sunlight. In silence he unwraps the ribbons and takes two to tie around Caitlin’s wrist. Caitlin ties the other two around his, focusing on the task instead of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually.

Caitlin stills, then finishes the last knot and drops her hands.

“Who else knows?”

Cisco shakes his head. “Just Harrison. No one else.”

“My father?”

“I don’t know,” Cisco admits quietly. “Harrison never said.”

Caitlin turns away, swiping angrily at the moisture in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me before? When my mother brought it up?”

Cisco gestures helplessly. “It’s your religion. How was I supposed to tell you that all your beliefs are lies?”

Caitlin glares at him. “You did today, instead of a month ago when I had to decide whether or not to trust this prophecy.” She steps closer, jabbing a finger in his chest. “And you’re the _oracle_ , it’s your religion, too!”

He catches her hand, pressing it to his heart. “You’re right, I should have told you. I just - I wasn’t sure it mattered. You said that you had other reasons for…” He trails off, bowing his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Caitlin stares at their hands, matching ribbons around their wrists, and feels her anger seep away. “Why today?”

Cisco swallows harshly, meeting her gaze. “What you said last night, that you were glad it’s me. I had to tell you the truth. You put all your trust in me, and I was breaking it. I wanted to be honest with you.”

“And you’ve been honest since then?” Caitlin asks, unconsciously moving closer.

“Yes,” Cisco says fervently. “ _Yes_.”

“So your vows?” Caitlin asks faintly. “You said-”

Cisco brings her hand up slowly and presses a tender kiss to the back and then to the palm. “I didn’t ask you to marry me because of religion or the prophecy or duty. I asked because I wanted to. I love you.”

Caitlin blinks fresh tears out of her eyes. “I love you, too.”

He looks up at her, eyes shining and a smile blooming. “You do?”

“I will love you through this life and into the next,” Caitlin quotes softly.

He laughs in disbelief, his hands coming up to cradle her face. Caitlin slides her arms under his overcoat. When Cisco kisses her, it all seems to coalesce, the way Cisco always looks at her that she could never quite decipher, the way she’s always drawn to walk by his side, their easy companionship, and the fire that races through her body when he kisses her.

It’s love. And maybe it’s fate after all.

_May joy and peace surround you both, contentment latch your door._

_And happiness be with you now and bless you evermore._

_May you live your life with trust and nurture lifelong affection._

_May your dreams come true for you, move ever that direction._


End file.
